


what is it about them?

by technomaed



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Afterlife, Alcohol, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, Gen, Heavy Angst, Prison, a lil self projection, no beta we die like men, schlatt is still an asshole, the void dome pog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:21:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29809032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/technomaed/pseuds/technomaed
Summary: This was it, no fireworks, no one to watch the bitter sweet victory he was meant to end with, nothing. Just a multicolored cat, flowing magma and an infuriated god repeatedly kicking him in his already broken ribs. What a painfully ordinary way to go for someone who assumed himself to be heroic.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 50





	what is it about them?

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in like 4 hours tops, so it’s definitely not one of my best works, but tommys death really destroyed me so i wanted to write something about it :(
> 
> this isn’t really referenced well to his actual lore death, the dialogue is different and the cats still alive (you’re welcome smh)  
> also!! i’m aware tubbo was too tired to do lore and wasn’t even aware, i just think his reaction was perfect for angst.
> 
> anyway, enjoy :)

Tommy always had his phobias in check, making sure to be hyper aware on every single one to avoid it the best he can. Things like claustrophobia and ekrixiphobia plagued his everyday life, he could still hear the explosions and feel the humidity of the dense space of the control room - despite knowing he wouldn't have to be in that time frame ever again. 

His last fear, the one most difficult to control, leading a completely average life. He always tried to make things more exciting, maybe it was the reason why he was constantly starting wars and fights, he just wanted to be and feel something, being otherwise would throw him into a fit of panic. Leading a useless life would always be a thought in the back of his head, who would've known it'd become reality.

"Tommy, you're annoying."

He scoffed, the humidity was back, the only plus side was that there was no button and Erets condescending voice wasn't there to trick him. Just him and Dream, surrounded by walls of lava with a cat only centimeters away from him, making murderous tendencies arise in him.

"If you don't get your fucking cat I will lose it Dream.” The purring was pissing him off, he was already stuck in here with one person, Sam had no need to add another creature. He slowly rubbed his temples, breath staggering as he looked back up at Dream.

"I can't wait to get out of here, you'll be in here all alone again." He exclaimed confidently, a sly smile etching onto his face. His true emotions were masked, of course he was terrified, border the point of a panic attack. He may not outwardly fear Dream, but he knows his power, not even this cell could stop that wrath.

"I'm getting out, too, just you wait." Dream responded, he took note to his demeanor - it was so much more easy to tell without that stupid mask. He was annoyed, very annoyed. Dreams fists were balled up in the pockets on his green jumpsuit, eyebrows furrowed and lips in a straight line - it would be an expressionless look if it wasn't for his gaze.

Tommy could only gulp, he wasn't sure what to say at this point. He's said all he could, he's insulted the man, denied his "honesty" and made him feel unwelcome in his own cell - it's a surprise Dream isn't showing a minuscule of embarrassment right now.

He could only think about getting out of here, dying in this cell would be average, hearing Dream out would be average, everything about this situation is thoroughly average and he despised that. Tommy just wanted to get back to his hotel, hang out with his friends and bother those he cared about. He knew if he were to not make it out of this cell he couldn't be the hero he needed to be. Even now, he was doubting he'd get out, because Dream was inching closer into his personal space.

Yet, he couldn't just shut up.

"I really doubt the possibility of this revival book." Was all he could muster before a burning force connected with his cheek, he grabbed his jaw and fell to the side. Dream just punched him. The only thing surprising about this was how much more hurtful it was the last few times, this time Dreams intentions were way more severe, deadly even.

He dragged himself to the other side of the cell, Dream slowly following and grabbing his ankle, sliding him down more. He could only kick and thrash, his jaw was still aching and he watched as Dream lifted his fist once again. This time his fingers cracked against Tommys nose, he couldn't grab it to ensure it wasn't broken, he was too busy trying to grab ahold of Dreams wrists, but he could feel the warm blood slowly pooling from his nostril as Dream landed another blow in the same area.

"Dream, fucking stop." Tommy shrieked out, pushing at the mans chest. He thought it would be over once the man rolled to the side, standing up. Only for a kick to connect with his ribs, his eyes going wide once he heard a crack. His body ignited into pain, the feeling so torturous that he couldn't even manage to breathe. He was going to fucking die at the hands of someone who ruined his life and there was nothing he could do about it. 

This was it, no fireworks, no one to watch the bitter sweet victory he was meant to end with, nothing. Just a multicolored cat, flowing magma and an infuriated god repeatedly kicking him in his already broken ribs. What a painfully ordinary way to go for someone who assumed himself to be heroic.

Dream seated himself on Tommys knees, continuing the assault with more force this time around. Tommy could only muster a single hook on the latters cheek, which was returned with a tight grip on his neck. He could no longer actually breathe. He was finally accepting it, he wasn't leaving.

He continued to thrash and heave for a single breath, yet his head turned to the lava, the sound of it ringing through his ears. He just wanted to see the supposed endgame, praying for its flow to stop and to see Sam at the end of that hallway. Alas, that came too late, everything went black with one final hit to his temple - his last sense taking notice to the dead silence, before hearing a single gasp from Sam.

It felt like nothing, for once, everything was nothing - it was all gone and even his emotions were void. He was just there, floating on air with no vessel to witness himself. This lasted for what felt like several lifetimes, just laying in abandoned dark, everything so deafened that you could hear a pin drop. 

He felt like crying almost, it was so peaceful, not even caring about the cause of his demise. He could finally rest and that's all he cared about in that exact moment. If there was anything he could thank Dream for, it was for the eternity of sleep he would get to experience, he was so beyond exhausted.

That was until his senses started coming back, first he felt his fingertips graze against moist ground, then the taste of pennies, the smell of burnt bourbon, a blinding light. And finally, he could hear a familiar sound, that would've been comforting if he wasn't aware of where he was, he could so faintly hear Wilbur and Schlatt arguing, it was growing closer.

"I'm telling you, dickhead! I can feel it, a place for Tommy is growing here." He heard Wilbur exclaim, he couldn't speak or move yet, couldn't yell out to make his presence aware - but god did he want to.

"You're fucking delusional, man. Take a shot with me for christ's sake." He could almost laugh at that, even in the afterlife Schlatt was still a lowlife drunk, how expected.

"Oh shit." the same man mumbled, Tommy was curious to what caused the reaction, before catching onto the fact that the reaction was caused by him. He was sitting upright, finally looking down to his hands. Tommy looked back up, only to see Wilbur staring at him wide eyed.

"Tommy?"

He could only stand, brushing his knees off, he didn't feel any pain, but he was still aware of the crimson rushing down his face - he probably looked like he just took a dip in a blood bath. 

Tommy could recall three words Techno told him once, repeating it into broken atmosphere, not even looking at the two men anymore. "Welcome home, Theseus." 

He was becoming acquainted with the fact this void was home, all along he denied his mortality - he was almost as pretentious as his killer. He took a look around, it was dark still, but had corners, a more spacious box for him to settle into. Tommy turned forward, seeing a table with an assortment of liquors and a beanie.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Wilbur asked him, baffled despite already taking notice to the growing space. Tommy didn't respond for a moment, turning to see an enderchest pop out of a thin air, alongside that, a jukebox.

"He said he wouldn't kill me, you know? For all that time, I was fine with being used as a symbol of power, as long as I wouldn't die. But here I am." He mumbled to Wilbur, finally pulling himself forward, straight into his friends arms. 

"I thought I would finally make it, it never goes my way Wilbur."

Tommy was finally comfortable with expressing his downfall, emotions were never his thing, at least not vocally. He could care less, though, why not pick up a few habits for the eons of time he would spend in this vacant room.

Schlatt didn't laugh, Wilbur didn't speak. He just continued to hug Tommy as the other took a seat, bringing the bottle up to his lips.

"The movies starting." The drunken man mumbled, eyes pulled down to a layer of white on the ground - where Sam was suddenly seen, holding Tommys empty vessel while walking out of the prison. 

Wilbur sat beside Schlatt, sighing and grabbing a beer for himself, this was going to be a tough watch for the man, Tommy wasn't even sure if he could watch. Yet he sat and kept his eyes fixated on the sight.

"Tubbo..." Sam said painfully, hands still gripped onto the dead frame. Tubbo turned, as shitty as it was, Tommy was awaiting his reaction, despite it not being what he expected as he heard his best friend laugh - almost painfully.

Schlatt couldn't help but snicker, letting out a silent damn as he turned to Tommy. No one looked upset, not Tubbo, or Ranboo, or Jack. "Fuckers" he screamed at the view. He watched as Sam left with Tommys body, Tubbo and Ranboo just looking at each other with almost amused expressions. He was just hoping it was denial.

He couldn't watch anymore, he knew no one else would care, Tubbo was the only one he had faith for, that didn't really work out. He stood, walking over to the ender chest finally. He grabbed onto Mellohi's vinyl, putting it into the slot of the jukebox, attempting to drown everything and everyone out.

The other two just kept watching, one slightly distraught and the other purely enjoying himself. He wasn't surprised by this at all, but it didn’t stop the entire situation from being hurtful. He'd prefer to just go back to the other void, that one was more comfortable, more quiet.

It wasn't long before he learned three people he attempted to trust had a celebration in his house, rooting over his death like it was some big game they just won. It was cut short due to Puffy, he tried so hard to appreciate that, but two people doesn't do much when an entire server doesn't care.

He was still tired, so unbelievably tired. He laid against the ground, clothes growing damp as he focused hard on the faint sound of one of his favorite discs. He didn't attempt to look up or notice the fact Wilbur was walking over to him, the taller man crouching down and sitting in order to talk to him.

"You okay?"

Tommy could only laugh, the question was so stupid to him. Why in this moment would he be alright? He just watched his best friend disregard his death and others celebrate it. If anything he's hateful, despite the feelings of despair, he was also absolutely fuming.

"It's funny" He began, looking up at Wilbur with nothing but spitting vexation, "They weren't this happy when you died, in fact, even the asshole over there got a funeral."

Wilbur just listened as he ranted his head off, he had no intention of ending anytime soon, all those pent up feelings with nowhere to share, Tommy could see in the others eyes that he knew his reaction was reasonable.

"But me? They're in my fucking home, joyous over me no longer being in their way." The tears began to roll, he can't even remember the last time he cried until now, he taught himself throughout exile keep your head up, eyes forward and face bare. Yet here he was, tears rushing down his face, mixing with crimson to hit the floor that would consume his sorrow with nothing in return. 

"I'm a kid, Wilbur. What did I do to them? I forgive and forgive and forgive empty apologies, they don't even fucking know what the word sorry is."

He couldn't help but sob, grasping onto the edges of the jukebox, burying his head under his wrists. Wilbur said nothing, not even a nod. He just sat silently, almost dripped in regret from his actions.

"Stop crying, pussy." He turned to Schlatt, despite the mans normal personality, Tommy knew he only said that to lighten the mood, even he looked a little upset. Tommy could only laugh, wiping his face. 

"That's why you're dead, asshole." Tommy returned, standing and leaving Wilbur to go argue with the other.

"Yeah? So are you, lighten the fuck up - it's peaceful around here." Schlatt patted him on the shoulder, offering the seat next to him. Tommy was hoping this wouldn't be as bad as he expected it to, he just wanted a good time for once and he'll accept it even if he's trapped here. He just hopes his ghost takes care of those he left behind, those who actually care.

"Whatever, grandpa." He scoffed, sitting next to Schlatt with his gaze forward. Wilbur shortly joined them, sitting with them and speaking up as they made small talk.

"I'm proud of you, Tommy."

That was the first time he heard that in a while, years even. It was so beyond comforting to know at least someone was proud of the progress he made, faith is one hell of an energy booster.

He clasped his hands together and nodded as a thanks, turning to include him. "I reckon I look cool as shit with this blood on my face right now, people would assume I stabbed someone in an alleyway."

"Keep dreaming, big guy." Schlatt returned back to his bottle, replacing it with a second after his last gulp. Wilbur only smiled, and they continued to chat, catching up on anything and everything. 

His hope was restored that death isn't that bad. As long as he has these assholes around his ego will stay intact, he's growing content with being gone now. 

And he'll slowly accept that the server is content with him being gone as well. It’s just going to take time, luckily he has that, way too much of it, but all he could was try to enjoy it.

He just wished Tubbo was here.


End file.
